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A Pound of Flesh	By : PennilynNovus Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 145349 -:- Recommendations : 9 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter universe, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. They belong to J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Books, and Warner Brothers. I'm not making any money off of this. I'm writing it for my own amusement (and y

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
Chapter Nine: Hermione�s Charmed

Hermione blinked awake as her alarm began to blare. With a groan, she rolled onto her side and groped for the snooze button, irritated with herself for once more staying up half the night combing the files at the Ministry for any information about Caradoc Dearborn. She�d been forced to go at night; Susan would have skinned her alive if she�d discovered her in the records room during her holidays, so Hermione had waited until she knew that just a skeleton crew of Ministry workers remained. And then she�d stayed far later than she�d intended.

It had been two days since she�d seen Dearborn�s face smiling out at her from the old Order picture on Harry�s mantle, two days since she�d realized it couldn�t be coincidence, it just couldn�t be, that Draco, supposedly dead, had instead ended up living in Muggle London with another supposedly dead wizard as his landlord. She�d begun to sense that there might be a conspiracy lurking behind Draco and his memory loss.

The files at the Ministry had failed her, and she�d done every search she could think of, from Dearborn�s Hogwarts school years to his association with the Ministry, to his Muggle upbringing. The files ended abruptly with a brief blurb concerning his unusual disappearance, and later, someone had stamped �deceased� across the bottom of the page.

At last admitting defeat, Hermione returned to her flat, groaning as she realized that she was due at the Burrow in five hours' time, and crawled under her sweet-smelling bed sheets.

Now as the clock radio continued to blare � it was playing �She Bangs�, she noted � Hermione managed to find the snooze button and the loud music cut off with a squawk. She rolled over, and was asleep at once.

The sun cutting across her face woke her again, and she stretched, feeling well-rested. Her brief moment of tranquility was marred with the nagging feeling that she�d slept longer than she should have. A quick glance at the clock confirmed her suspicion. It was nearly noon. She must have turned her alarm off, not hit the snooze, earlier.

Swearing so profusely that she was almost shocked at herself, she bolted out of bed, wondering why nobody had come through the Floo to get her. She showered in record time, not even bothering to wash her hair; it was relatively clean and she yanked it back into a ponytail.

Pausing to take a few deep breaths, Hermione knelt to pet Crookshanks as she filled his food dish. Things were likely so chaotic at the Burrow that she probably wouldn�t get another quiet moment for several hours. Once her nerves had settled, she headed for the Floo.

As used to the chaos of the Burrow as she was, Hermione still recoiled at the volume of noise that greeted her when she spun out of the fireplace into the kitchen. Somewhere in the house, Mrs. Weasley was yelling instructions to her sons. The wireless was blaring, and loud voices in overlapping conversations filled the kitchen. Stepping away from the Floo, Hermione looked around.

The kitchen was crowded as Fleur, Angelina, Percy and his girlfriend, Audrey, all industriously worked on preparing various dishes of food. Fleur was bent over the table, carefully applying creamy white frosting to an enormous, multi-tiered cake, a smudge of frosting across her forehead. Angelina, her short shirt sleeves rolled up to her shoulders, laboriously churned something in a massive mixing bowl, calling advice over her shoulder to Fleur. Percy and Audrey were chopping vegetables at high speed, apparently racing the set of knives working alone on the counter next to them. None of them had noticed her.

She stood a moment longer, frozen in indecision, before taking a step towards the door to the other room. She stepped on a toy car and nearly lost her balance, yelping in shock. The kitchen was suddenly silent except for the unmistakable squealing laughter of Teddy, who must be somewhere in the room. Everyone stared at her in surprise.

�Hermione, when did you show up?� Angelina said, quickly returning to her mixing duties.

�Just now, sorry. I meant to be sooner, but I overslept.�

�I hear that�s been happening to you a lot lately,� Angelina said with a wink. Hermione smiled tightly, deciding she would have to spell Susan�s mouth shut.

�Ginny in the other room?� Hermione asked, pretending not to catch the conspiratorial look Angelina was giving her.

�Upstairs, with Luna,� a new voice piped up from under the table. Hermione ducked her head and saw Dean under the table, playing toy cars with Teddy.

�Hey, Dean,� Hermione said, blinking. �Hi, Teddy.� Teddy ignored her, intent on racing his toy car up the leg of the table. Dean waved before turning his attention back to Teddy, making car engine noises.

�How many people are here?� Hermione asked in wonderment as she straightened back up.

�Not too many,� Percy said, belatedly starting to chop vegetables with Audrey again. �Just us, Bill, Charlie, George, Ron, Harry, Mum and Dad, Ginny and Luna, and Mrs. Tonks.�

�And Victoire,� Fleur added, pushing her hair from her face with a hand covered in flour. �Not many at all.� She quirked her lips in a wry smile.

�No, not at all,� Hermione agreed, keeping her face straight.

�You should go tell Ginny you�re here,� Angelina told her. �Molly has been driving her a bit batty today.�

�She�s upstairs?� Hermione asked, heading for the door to the rest of the house.

�Last I saw her, she was in her room, packing.�

�Thanks, Angelina.� Hermione left the kitchen behind, stepping into the main room, which, thanks to the hard work of George, Charlie, and Bill, was decorated with large sweeps of flowered garlands. Mrs. Weasley was meticulously dusting picture frames as she directed them on the hanging of another garland over the large front window.

�Oh, Hermione, thank goodness you�re here, dear.� Mrs. Weasley tossed her feather duster aside and gathered Hermione into a tight, motherly embrace. �You�re feeling better today? You look better.�

�I feel fine, thank you, Mrs. Weasley. I think the heat just got to me on Sunday,� Hermione answered without batting an eye.

�It is dreadfully hot, isn�t it,� Mrs. Weasley said, pushing a bit of sweaty hair away from her face. �Almost makes me wish I�d let Arthur try installing one of those Muggle air chillers like you�ve got.�

�I�m going to go tell Ginny I�m here,� Hermione told her.

However, just then there was a deafening bang from upstairs, followed by two roars of outrage. �GEORGE!� Ron�s voice echoed down the stairwell.

George grinned, and Mrs. Weasley turned her attention back to him. �George, what did you do?�

�Nothing, really. It must be an old prank that I forgot about,� George answered, doing his best to look innocent.

There was the sound of feet pounding down the stairs, and a moment later, Ron, followed closely by Harry, appeared. Both were covered in violently pink goo that, as Hermione watched, began to collect in a puddle beneath them. �What did you DO?� Ron shouted, taking two steps toward George. �It won�t come off!�

�RONALD!� Mrs. Weasley yelled as Bill, Charlie, and George burst into laughter. �You�re dripping all over my freshly cleaned floor. Go upstairs, both of you, and wash that gunk off.�

�Didn�t you hear me? It won�t come off! We tried Scourgifying ourselves and it stayed put.�

�What happened to you two?� Bill asked, still laughing.

�We were cleaning the twins� old bedroom like Mum told us to, and we found a box under the bed.�

�So you opened it?�

�No!� Harry said, spitting goo out of his mouth. �Ron tried to Vanish it and the bloody thing exploded in my face! Sorry, Mrs. Weasley,� he finished as she shot him an admonishing look for his language.

�Well, I didn�t know it was going to explode!� Ron snapped, still glaring at George.

�Calm down, Ronnikins,� George said, cutting across his mother as she opened her mouth to start yelling. �It�ll wash off with a fair bit of soap and water.�

�You ought to let Harry wash up first, though,� Charlie spoke up. �Looks like he got hit with the brunt of it.�

Indeed, Harry�s front was covered in the pink goo; it dripped from the ends of his hair and the tip of his nose. He reached up to pull his dirty glasses from his face, revealing the two clean spots around his eyes.

Ron looked as though he wanted to argue, but then he glanced over his shoulder at Harry and convulsed as he attempted to stifle his laughter. �Yeah, you should probably go first, mate,� he said, unable to completely keep from chuckling.

�Oh, thank you so much,� Harry snarled before he turned and stormed back up the stairs.

�Ron, you can rinse off in the back garden. You need to get out of those clothes and off my clean floor,� Mrs. Weasley said, giving Ron a stern look. She turned to look at George. �Go get your brother some fresh clothes, George.�

�Oh, no!� Ron said in a loud voice. �I don�t want him going anywhere near my room!�

Mrs. Weasley huffed impatiently. �Fine. Hermione, would you mind?�

Ron�s head shot up; it was apparent he hadn�t noticed her standing half-hidden behind his mother. Hermione returned the forced smile he sent her way with a smirk.

�Hey, Hermione. Been here long?� he asked cordially.

�Long enough,� she answered, stepping out from behind Mrs. Weasley, who still had no idea that Ron and Hermione�s break-up had been anything but amicable.

�Glad you could make it,� Ron responded, his tone polite.

�Any particular trousers or shirts you want?� Hermione inquired as she resolutely started forward, keeping a fair distance between them as she approached the stairs. He stepped to the side to give her more room.

�You don�t need to � � Ron began.

�Oh, it�s fine,� Hermione responded automatically. �I�ll meet you out back in a few minutes.� Before she stopped to think about what she was doing, she started up the stairs. She passed Ginny�s closed door, stepped around the path of pink goo trailing from the twins� old room, and dodged Harry as he hurried for the shower. Almost before she realized it, she�d made it to the uncomfortably warm top floor, where Ron�s door hung half-open.

She pushed the door the rest of the way open, feeling the shock of seeing Ron�s things again so palpably that it made her skin tingle. The glaring orange posters hung from the walls, socks littered the floor in piles, and the chess set sat on the desk, the pieces placed neatly on their squares. It was all so familiar, and yet at the same time, it suddenly seemed completely foreign.

These things aren�t mine anymore, Hermione realized. Ron�s smell � the earthy, tart scent of grass, the aroma of a freshly polished broom handle, his soap � no longer felt like home. The startling realization left her weak in the knees and she leaned against the doorframe, trying to catch her breath.

She didn�t love Ron anymore.

The knowledge struck a painful blow to her heart. She�d somewhat childishly thought she�d always love Ron, in spite of the fact that they were no longer together. Then her spirits lifted, along with the weight pressing on her heart. She suddenly felt lighter than she�d felt in months, almost free.

She took another moment to recover in the doorway, and then stepped over a pile of socks to the wardrobe, where she collected a t-shirt and a pair of shorts. She trotted back down the stairs and through the kitchen to the back garden, where Ron was rinsing himself with the cold water from the hose.

�Clothes,� she called out to him, setting them on a nearby bench.

�Thanks,� he grunted as she turned to go back inside. �Say,� Ron said suddenly, causing her to turn back. �You bringing anyone to the wedding?�

�You know I�m not, Ron,� Hermione said with a sigh.

�Oh, that�s right. Muggle. I forgot.� With a smirk, Ron returned to his bathing, and Hermione went back inside, feeling annoyed all over again.

Mrs. Weasley appeared in front of her, looking frantic. Aunt Muriel had decided to come earlier than she was intended to, and her room wasn�t ready yet. Wanting to help Mrs. Weasley, who had a strangely wild look on her harried face, Hermione quickly vaulted back up the stairs to Charlie�s old bedroom to ready it.

***

�No, hang that over there,� Mrs. Weasley called, her voice echoing up the stairs. Hermione winced slightly, rubbing her aching temples. �No, George, over there!�

There was a muffled thud followed by the quiet tinkle of breaking glass, and Hermione froze, wondering if this was to be the moment when Mrs. Weasley cracked. But the yelling she anticipated did not happen, and the Burrow grew quiet. Sensing it was the calm before the storm, Hermione waited, but silence continued to reign.

Hermione paused a moment longer, and then sank slowly onto the bed she�d just finished making. She rubbed her head again with her fingertips, willing the throbbing pain to go away. The noise of the Burrow in final wedding preparations combined with the continued sweltering heat left her with a colossal headache that not even Mrs. Weasley�s strongest headache remedy could mend.

At least while she had cleaned she�d had time to once more consider the facts. Caradoc Dearborn, supposedly dead Order member, was the landlord of Draco Malfoy, supposedly dead Death Eater. Caradoc Dearborn, victim of a Memory Charm that had wiped away everything except the desire to travel far away from London, and the war with Voldemort. It couldn�t possibly be that the same person had charmed them and arranged it so they would both be in the same place. Or could it? Was she now looking for a soft-hearted Death Eater who didn�t have the heart to kill his victims?

Maybe not. Dearborn had told her that he�d read about Draco in the paper and in a fit of sympathy, given the young man a place to live. But what if it hadn�t been like that at all? What if Dearborn was in on it? What if his story had been a lie?

But what would he stand to gain from lying? Hermione paused, stumped. Besides a few traces of Draco�s Accidental magic, she hadn�t picked up any other magical signatures nearby. Any spell Dearborn would cast would have been revealed. Which meant, if he wasn�t using magic, he hadn�t regained his memories, ergo he wasn�t lying.

However, Hermione refused to believe it was a coincidence that Draco and Dearborn ended up in the same spot, with the same problem. She wasn�t sure what to do about Dearborn, either. She�d report him as located, but then that would bring scrutiny to Draco, as well. She fell back on the bed, frustrated. There was no way to reveal Dearborn without also revealing Draco. And for some reason, something inside was telling her that she couldn�t reveal Draco. But if Dearborn and Draco were both charmed by the same person, Hermione might now be able to use the missing Order member to locate that person.

Sick of thinking in circles, she sat up and looked around Charlie�s old bedroom, where Aunt Muriel would be staying, and deemed it clean enough for the unpleasant old bat. As it was, she reined in the impulse to leave behind a nasty surprise for the old woman. �Skinny ankles, indeed,� Hermione huffed as she stood and stretched. Her spine realigned with several satisfying cracks, and she sighed, resigning herself to the fact that eventually she would have to go downstairs to see what had happened. Deciding that delaying the inevitable would only make things worse in the end, she headed for the door.

She met Harry on the landing outside. He was still damp from showering away the pink goo, and looked apprehensive.

�What are you doing out here?� Hermione asked, joining him at the railing where he was gazing down the multiple sets of stairs.

�Trying to decide if I want to risk going down there,� he admitted, his eyes still locked on some spot far below them.

�It�s quiet,� Hermione observed.

�I know, and that�s what scares me.� After a moment, Harry flexed his hands, which gripped the railing tightly, and pushed away. He ran a hand through his hair, an action that, when combined with the remaining moisture in his fringe, resulted in his hair nearly standing on end. With a mirthless chuckle, he took another step back. �We just wanted it to be simple. Quiet. No fuss.�

�A Weasley wedding, quiet with no fuss?� Hermione ribbed slightly. �Where were you when Bill and Fleur were married?�

�Apparently too concerned thinking about what we were going to get up to once the wedding was over,� Harry jibed back.

Hermione reached out to pat Harry�s shoulder. �Molly Weasley�s only daughter is about to marry Harry Potter. You couldn�t possibly have expected it to be a simple affair.�

Harry grimaced in annoyance. �No, I suppose not.�

�Don�t worry. You just need to get through the rest of today and Friday, and then Saturday it will all be over.�

With a sigh, Harry�s shoulders slumped. �Oh, well when you put it like that��

Hermione�s reply died on her lips as Ron thundered down the stairs behind them, his hair still dripping from his scrub in the backyard. He was wearing different clothes than the ones Hermione had brought him. She rolled her eyes slightly. �What are you two doing up here?� he asked casually, his eyes skimming past Hermione before peering over the railing.

�Trying to decide if it�s safe to go down there,� Harry said at once, stepping in between Hermione and Ron.

�It�s quiet,� Ron noted, unwittingly echoing Hermione�s earlier observation.

�Exactly,� Harry told him.

�I�ll go check out the damages,� Hermione volunteered at once, eager to get away from Ron. She started down the stairs before either of them could reply, and made it to the first floor landing before Ginny intercepted her.

�You don�t want to go down there, trust me,� Ginny said in a low tone. She dragged Hermione into her room, which looked as though a tornado had blown through. Several half-filled boxes were clustered in the center of the room, possessions and articles of clothing separated into piles, forming a haphazard circle around them. The wardrobe hung open, empty, and the walls, which had been covered in Holyhead Harpies and Weird Sisters posters, were bare.

�What happened?� Hermione asked, easing the door shut soundlessly behind her.

�I don�t know, but George broke something and Mum didn�t start shouting. It can�t be good.� Ginny picked her way over to the boxes and looked down with a long-suffering sigh. �I was going to go grab some crisps or something but I think I�d rather stay up here a while longer now. When Mum goes quiet on you, that�s when she�s really scary.�

�Where did Luna go?�

�She and Dean probably snuck off to go shag down by the pond,� Ginny said with a shrug.

�Oh,� Hermione replied, remembering doing that exact thing once upon a time. She lingered by the door a moment longer, hearing Harry and Ron coming down the stairs. She thought about opening the door to pass along the warning as they went past, but she couldn�t stand the idea of being in Ron�s presence at the moment. So she let them go by, ignoring the slightly reproachful look Ginny gave her.

�You just threw my future husband to the wolves, didn�t you?� Ginny asked, one hand on her hip.

�Ron will take the brunt, I reckon. Your mum would never yell at Harry,� Hermione ventured hopefully. �You want some help packing?�

The distraction worked, and Ginny made a face as she looked down at the piles of things waiting to be packed. �I don�t know how I managed to accumulate so many things,� she sighed.

Nudging a box aside with her foot, Hermione cleared an area and sat next to Ginny. For a while, they worked in silence, folding and packing until the floor was nearly clear. They were taping up the final boxes when Harry appeared in the doorway, looking worried.

�Hermione, Susan just Flooed over to say you should make an appearance at the Ministry. She said Obliviator HQ is about to start screaming for you.� Harry stepped further into the room. �She said it was urgent.�

Swallowing hard, Hermione nodded and rose to her feet, shuddering under the sympathetic looks Harry and Ginny were giving her. She knew already what had happened.

***

Susan was waiting for Hermione as she emerged from the Floo into the Ministry Atrium. Susan, with a fresh set of MLE robes draped over her arm, looked apprehensive.

�Sorry to pull you away from your holiday, but if I hadn�t, they would have,� Susan said quickly, extending the robes to Hermione, who slipped them on over her casual clothing.

�Is it Rowle?� Hermione asked, buttoning the robes with slightly shaking fingers.

Susan nodded, quickly ushering Hermione toward the lifts. �They found him wandering around in Germany, living like a vagrant.�

Hermione blew out a shuddering breath. At least he was alive. The same could not be said for two of her other victims. �How did they find him?�

The lift rattled to a stop in front of them, and the grates slid open. At this time of the day, the lift was deserted. Hermione stepped in at once, Susan right behind.

�He walked in front of a bus. It almost hit him, but he displayed fully matured Accidental magic and the bus slammed into his Shield spell. The German Ministry intercepted him as the paramedics were examining him and recognized him from that poster the Ministry sent out three years ago.�

Hermione swallowed again, feeling her throat tighten painfully at mention of the poster, the one which showed the faces of all the witches and wizards that remained missing upon the end of the war. Hermione was personally responsible for six of the faces on the poster.

One by one, her victims had been located. Two had died in the time since she Obliviated them, two more had been reduced to babbling idiots, and were currently keeping Gilderoy Lockhart company in St. Mungo�s, their memories gone forever. The fifth, Archibald Craft, had been discovered several months ago, happily living as a Muggle in Scotland, working on a fishing boat. It had seemed almost cruel to remove him from that life and return his memories of life as a Death Eater. He was now miserably languishing away in Azkaban, constantly trying to bribe the guards to Obliviate him again and return him to life as a Muggle.

Thorfinn Rowle was the last of her known Memory Charm victims. Living as a vagrant was hardly an enjoyable life, but Hermione was certain it was preferable to living as a prisoner in Azkaban. Not that he deserved any less.

Susan put a hand on Hermione�s shoulder and turned her to examine her. �No offense,� she said, pointing her wand at Hermione�s hair. There was a cool rush of air, and her hair fell in frizzy, but dry, waves around her face. She reached up and automatically pulled it back into a ponytail.

�None taken. Thanks,� Hermione said faintly.

�Hey,� Susan said, shaking her shoulder slightly. �This is a good thing. He�s been caught; he�s alive, and he�s the last one.�

Hermione nodded, her stomach in knots. Susan was right, of course, but that didn�t make it any easier knowing she was about to come face to face with one of the men who had haunted her nightmares for months after the war.

Rowle and Craft had been the last known recipients of one of her Memory Charms. By that time, she�d gotten good at them, out of necessity more than anything else. Though she, Harry and Ron were careful not to leave tracks and to stay hidden, they�d been discovered more than once.

The first time, they were caught by a pair of trackers, in it for the price that Voldemort had set on their heads. After a brief battle, the two clumsy trackers were disarmed and Stunned. Knowing that the pair could not be allowed to remember the encounter, Hermione shakily performed the strongest Memory Charms she could muster. In spite of her protestations that they wake the pair to ensure she�d done no permanent damage, Harry insisted that they be left to awaken on their own. How they�d spent their remaining time, Hermione had no way of knowing, but by the time she started looking for them a year and a half later, they were both dead.

Three months later, coming back to their hiding spot from a grueling trip to Diagon Alley, they�d stumbled right into a trap. This time, they battled three Death Eaters, Jugson, Travers and Selwyn. In the frantic moments of the skirmish, curses flew through the air haphazardly, and afterwards, neither she, Harry or Ron really knew who was responsible, but Jugson lay dead, Travers stumbled in a circle, mumbling incoherently, and Selwyn was out cold on the ground. Ron bled freely from several gashes across his front, and Harry�s wand hand swelled rapidly to twice its normal size, three bones shattered. Hermione, her nose bleeding and her shoulder dislocated, weakly subdued Travers before collapsing on the ground, unable to stand any longer.

After they�d bandaged themselves the best they could, they buried Jugson in the woods, and then they turned their attention to their captives. With little urging from Harry, Hermione Obliviated them, removing the encounter � and the previous several years of their lives � from their minds completely. Then, while she packed up their tent, Ron took Travers and Harry took Selwyn, and each Apparated away, depositing their captive in a different location. Then they all fled the scene of the fight, and it was several weeks before Hermione could sleep through the night without waking in a cold sweat or screaming out in fear.

Voldemort had tracked down his wayward Death Eaters, and in trying to break the Memory Charm Hermione had set in place, left both men as mindless idiots, incapable of caring for themselves. In some fit of mercy, or perhaps out of amusement, Voldemort had left them alive, returning them to where he�d found them. The Ministry found both men in an asylum once the war was over.

The lift rattled to a halt on level three, and Hermione automatically followed Susan out. It was a short walk to Obliviator Headquarters, but as Hermione resolutely put one foot in front of the other, it seemed as if the door grew further and further away. The door stood open, and a great clump of wizards milled about in front of it.

�He�s the last one, remember,� Susan said encouragingly again and Hermione nodded once more.

�Thank you, Susan,� she whispered, stopping suddenly. �You should probably go back. There�s no reason for you to get caught up in this circus.�

�Don�t be ridiculous, Hermione. I�m your partner. I�m not going anywhere.�

Just then, the cry went up. She�d been spotted.

�It�s Granger!�

�Granger�s here!�

Sally-Anne O�Malley rushed forward through the crowd to shake Hermione�s hand with teeth-jarring force. �This is so exciting, Hermione. It�s incredible!�

Hermione stared at her, blinking slowly.

�Right this way, through here,� Sally-Anne directed. The milling crowd blocked the doorway and Sally-Anne raised her voice. �OI! Clear out, you lot! I�ve got Hermione Granger here!�

Hermione winced slightly as the crowd parted around her. She knew Susan followed closely behind as they entered the Headquarters; she was there to pry Sally-Anne�s fingers off of Hermione�s arm.

Sally-Anne, not the least bit deterred, hurried into a private office, and a moment later, emerged, trailed by a wispy man who looked like a soft wind would bowl him over. Hermione recognized him as Arnold Peasegood, who had been promoted to Head Obliviator following the war.

�Ms. Granger,� he said in a deep voice that certainly did not belong to a man of such slight build, �thank you for coming so quickly.� He extended his hand, gripping her numb fingers in a tight handshake. Without further preamble, he continued, �We hope to have this over as quickly as possible. Mr. Rowle is right through here.�

Hermione nodded mutely, her heart banging against her ribcage, making it hard to breathe. The last time she�d seen this man, he�d had her pinned to the ground, one hand ripping aside her robes, the other holding his wand trained to her throat. She placed her hand on the doorframe to steady herself.

***

�HERMIONE!� Ron bellowed, his feet tied and his hands bound together behind his back. He struggled vainly against his restraints, trying to roll across the clearing. Archibald Craft, however, placed one foot firmly on Ron�s back, and exerted enough pressure to leave Ron gasping. Harry, who was to be left unspoiled for Voldemort, was propped against a tree, immobilized.

Hermione gasped for air, pinned beneath the much larger, heavier man. She clawed at his face and he laughed, grabbing both of her hands with his wand hand. �That�s right, struggle. It makes it more fun for me.�

Dimly, she was aware of Ron�s continued cries, but her world narrowed down to the leering man on top of her who was ripping off her jeans roughly.

Not like this, not like this, she chanted to herself.

Rowle succeeded in removing her jeans, and he tossed them to the side. She felt the sharp edges of the twigs under her buttocks, the sickening feel of the man�s trousers rubbing against her thighs.

Hermione closed her eyes, focusing on only one thing in the entire world, and that was the brush of Rowle�s wand against her palms. She concentrated on the feel of the wood, and the slight connection it made with her right hand. As Rowle reached down to remove her knickers, Hermione twisted her hand in his, wrapping her hand around the wand and yanking it down. �DEPULSO!� she screamed.

Rowle gave a yelp of shock as he flew backwards across the small clearing, slamming forcefully into a tree. The other Death Eater, caught off guard when Ron rolled over, stumbled backward. Not even on her feet yet, Hermione directed Rowle�s wand at Craft and Stupefied him. She leapt up, pulling her robes closed over her bare legs, and stormed to where Rowle lay on the ground, stirring feebly. She kicked him in the stomach, and as he curled around himself, she aimed another strong kick at his face. His teeth cut into her bare foot, but she didn�t even feel it.

�Never, never, never!� Hermione screamed at him as she kicked him again and again. She lost her balance and fell to the ground. She scrambled back over to Rowle and began to pummel him with her fists. Soon, Rowle stopped defending himself.

At some point, Ron, who must have used Craft�s wand to free himself, and Harry, who Ron must have freed, pulled her away from the bloody, unconscious man.

***

Susan�s touch on her shoulder made her jump in surprise. �You alright, Hermione?� Susan asked quietly.

�Fine,� she answered automatically, stepping the rest of the way into the room.

Rowle sat with his back to the doorway, his shoulders slumped. He smelled of garbage and his hair hung in stringy clumps down his back. As Hermione rounded the room, she shuddered. She�d seen this man�s sneering face in nightmares far longer than she�d seen Jugson�s dead face.

His face was mostly the same, though his nose had healed wrong from when she�d broken it, and he was missing the teeth she�d kicked in. He stared at her hungrily, his face twisted into a leer. She forced herself to return his stare for a long moment, forcing herself to face this fear, this man who had made her feel more insecure about herself than Draco Malfoy and his pureblooded cronies ever had. Feeling her heart threatening to explode from within her chest, she returned to the doorway.

�It was an excellent charm, Miss Granger. A complete wipe,� Peasegood said, his tone colored with awe. �Not many could accomplish such a thing.� He nodded encouragingly. �Just as with the charms you performed on Travers and Selwyn � very few could have made their minds impenetrable to You-Know-Who.�

Hermione turned her face away from the prisoner in response. �You just need me to reverse the charm, and that�s it, right?� she asked Peasegood hollowly.

�Indeed. After you reverse the charm, your services will no longer be required.�

�You�re quite certain I will never need to deal with this man again, is that correct?� she verified, amazed that her voice wasn�t affected by the tremors racing through her body.

�Absolutely,� Peasegood said, not questioning this need for clarification. �All we need is his memories restored, and then he can be punished for everything he�s done.�

Hermione nodded, and without further ado, extracted her wand. Then she paused, bracing herself for what was to come after. Once the charm was reversed, a Legilimens would have a go at Rowle, extracting every available memory. Those memories would be given to the Aurors for analysis. And those memories, so long hidden, would at last reveal to the world what Hermione had kept hidden from everyone except Harry and Ron, who already knew, and Ginny, who had pried it out of her.

The Aurors would pick apart her desperate struggle; they would see Rowle disarm her and knock her to the ground. They would witness her jeans, made two sizes too large from lack of food, yanked away, leaving her legs and modest white panties exposed. They would see the terror in her eyes. Before it was over, they�d see her lose control, channeling her fear into fury and fists into weapons.

It was possible that they might call her in to ask if she wanted to raise charges against Rowle, but what was the point? The man had already earned a lifetime stint in Azkaban.

Hermione shook her head as Susan touched her arm again. She stepped forward resolutely. Once more, her world narrowed down to just this man, sitting with his back to her, and the wand in her hand. She placed her wand carefully to the man�s temple, steadied the shaking of her hand, and concentrated on the desire to restore his memories. Then, readjusting the placement of her wand, she quietly said, �Meminisse Recordatio.� The flash of blue light sank into his temple and he jerked slightly.

Then, before Rowle became fully aware again, Hermione nodded curtly to Peasegood and swiftly left the smaller office.

As she hurried to the lifts, she became aware that Susan was on one side, hurrying to keep up, and Sally-Anne was on the other, breathlessly congratulating Hermione. At the lifts, Hermione paused a moment, turning her eyes heavenward as Sally-Anne continued on, undeterred by Hermione�s silence. She glanced at her partner. �Susan, please?� she said, turning away from the lifts and heading for the stairs. As Sally-Anne tried to follow, Susan held her back, and Hermione took the stairs two at a time back to the Atrium.

She Flooed directly into her flat, stumbling slightly as she regained her footing. Then she headed straight for the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before she threw up everything in her stomach. She curled up on the bathroom floor and began to sob.

Some time later, a hand on her forehead brought her out of the fitful doze she�d fallen into on the floor. She started up, her left arm asleep from being trapped beneath her.

�It�s alright, Hermione. It�s just me,� Ginny said soothingly, kneeling down next to her.

�Ginny? What are you doing here?� Hermione asked, pulling herself into a sitting position and leaning against the bathtub.

�Susan Flooed again and said you would probably need some company tonight.� Ginny handed her a glass of water. �She said it was Rowle.�

�He was the only one left,� Hermione pointed out.

�Why don�t you take a shower and I�ll make you some tea?�

�Put some Firewhisky in it.�

�Consider it done.�

Ginny helped her to her feet and then left the bathroom. Hermione stripped out of the robes that Susan had given her and peeled away the tank top and shorts she was wearing underneath. She turned the shower on as hot as she could bear it, and then stepped in to scrub herself down thoroughly.

She�d done this same thing after her last encounter with Rowle. After Ron and Harry had pulled her, still kicking and screaming, away from the unconscious man, they�d done their best to comfort her, but they didn�t understand that she didn�t want them to touch her or look at her or even talk to her. All she wanted was to go away, be anywhere else where that man was not

At length, however, Harry�s voice had broken through when he requested that she once more perform the Memory Charm she�d gotten so good at doing. It was that small act of trust on Harry�s part as he�d returned her wand to her that had saved her from having a complete mental breakdown. Harry and Ron still depended on her. They still thought she was capable.

And so, once more, she Obliviated the captive men, and then Ron took Rowle away. He was gone for some time before he returned for Craft. Hermione never asked him why he�d been gone so long, nor had she questioned why Harry stayed behind with her while Ron disposed of both Death Eaters. And they hadn�t said anything when, upon setting up camp in a different location, Hermione had retreated to the tent�s bathroom and taken a shower that lasted more than two hours.

This time, however, Ginny cracked open the door after twenty minutes and called, �The tea is ready and you�re going to drown if you stay in there much longer.�

Hermione lingered in the scalding water for five more minutes before stepping out and wrapping herself in a large towel. She retreated to her bedroom and slipped into her pajamas. Then she went into the kitchen where Ginny had set up tea on the small breakfast table.

�Shouldn�t you be at the Burrow, finishing your wedding plans?� Hermione asked, taking a seat at the table.

�No, I should be here with my best friend, making sure she�s okay,� Ginny said in a tone that left no room for argument. �Mum basically planned the wedding without me up until now. She can keep at it for a few more hours.�

As she took her first sip of the liberally spiked tea, Hermione smiled in gratitude. �Thanks, Ginny.�

�That�s what friends are for.� Ginny scooped up Crookshanks, who was weaving around her ankles, and cuddled him to her chest. The old tom submitted meekly and his rumbling purr soon filled the silence. �It isn�t fair that you had to be the one to reverse the charm. You could have just refused, told them to do it.�

�That would have destroyed his brain. Voldemort himself couldn�t get through my memory charms. You know as well as I do that the only certain way to reverse a Memory Charm without any damage is to have the caster do the reversing.�

�I know,� Ginny said with a sigh. �What�s the best punishment� leave him drooling in Lockhart�s shoes or suffering in Azkaban?�

�At least if he was drooling in Lockhart�s shoes nobody else would know what happened.� Hermione spun her teacup in her hands, which were cold. Almost morosely, she wondered what her tea leaves would say if she read them right now. Or did alcohol negate the effects? If Trelawney was any example, probably, yes.

Ginny laid a hand on Hermione�s arm, letting Crookshanks hop down to the floor. �You know the Auror Department will keep it quiet. Besides, you got the upper hand in the end.�

Not wanting to think about it any more, Hermione drank the rest of her tea and set the cup onto the saucer with a loud rattle. �Do you mind if we talk about something else?�

Ginny nodded, an understanding smile on her face. �Well, it�s not completely unrelated, but what news of Draco?�

Knowing she should have been expecting that, Hermione felt a wry smile touch her lips. �I�m keeping things strictly professional from now on.�

�Since when?� Ginny rushed to ask.

�Since Saturday night when he shagged me senseless,� Hermione shot back.

�Hermione!� Ginny gasped in astonishment.

Undeterred, Hermione continued. �If I can uncover the person who performed his Memory Charm, I can reinforce it without hurting him.�

After taking another moment to stare in shock at Hermione, Ginny blinked and asked, �Why reinforce the charm?�

�As opposed to tracking down whoever did it, convincing them to reverse the charm, revealing a not-dead Draco Malfoy to the world and � �

�Sending him to Azkaban to rot alongside Rowle?�

Hermione acquiesced. �But that still leaves tracking down whoever set the charm. For all we know it was Snape Polyjuiced as a woman. Or Narcissa figuring she couldn�t shield Draco anymore. Dead people can�t reverse charms. And without some sort of trigger, I can�t see him breaking through the charm.� Hermione remembered what Peasegood had said earlier. �Very few people can do a complete memory wipe; whoever did it would have made sure that not just anything would trigger his memories.�

�So trigger his memory for him,� Ginny said logically.

�What?� Hermione asked, aghast.

�Trigger his memory. I�m surprised your presence wasn�t enough to do it, actually.�

�Ginny, I�ve read through his file. I�ve seen Harry�s statements. He doesn�t belong in Azkaban, and that�s where he would end up if he came back to the wizarding world.� Hermione shifted uncomfortably at the strangely knowing look that appeared on Ginny�s face.

�That makes it sound like you care about him,� she observed.

Hermione briskly reached for the teakettle to mask her flush. �I told you already: I�ve decided to keep things professional from now on. I�m done shagging Draco Malfoy, and now I�ve got to locate the person who charmed him. I�ll leave it up to them whether or not they give him back his memories. Maybe they had good cause to take them.�

Ginny harrumphed disapprovingly and Hermione suddenly had empathy for what Ron and Harry must have suffered at her own hand while they�d been in school. It wasn�t any fun at all being on the other side of a disapproving sniff.

***

Hermione jolted awake, startled out of a fuzzy nightmare. The phone at her bedside was ringing. She groped blindly for it in the dark, trying to figure out who would be calling her in the middle of the night, and then realizing it could only be bad news. Nobody ever called this late unless there was something wrong. Her emotions still in an upheaval over earlier, she felt grim dread descending on her barely awake mind.

At last, she found the phone, and answered. �Hello?� There was no reply to her sleepy query. She paused, waiting for response, growing more annoyed by the moment. Prank phone calls in the middle of the night weren�t funny. Especially after the day she�d had. She tried again. �Hello?�

�Hi,� the voice on the other end finally answered. �It�s me.�

Her sleepy brain trying to catch up, it took her a moment to recognize the voice. �Draco?� she blurted, surprised.

There was short pause on the phone, and then he replied, sounding slightly breathless, �What?�

In an instant, Hermione was wide awake. Oh, bugger, she thought. Bugger it all, Hermione, you fuckwit! You called him Draco! She bolted upright in bed, and quickly came up with the best excuse she could manage, which was partially true. �Damien. Sorry, I�m half-asleep. I must have been dreaming.�

�Oh,� he replied, still sounding confused.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, she chastised herself, smacking a hand to her forehead. �What time is it?� Hermione asked, desperately trying to get him beyond her slip.

There was a short pause, and Hermione glanced at her bedside table, and the alarm clock, which showed it was past one in the morning. Why in the devil was he calling her at such an hour?

�Late,� Draco mumbled evasively, the drawl in his voice more prominent than usual.

�Are you alright?�

�Fine. You didn�t call me back,� he said accusingly.

Feeling genuinely guilty about that for the first time, Hermione squirmed uncomfortably. �I�m sorry about that. I�ve been busy.� She cleared her throat, knowing it wasn�t a complete lie, though not the reason she hadn�t called him back. �My friends are getting married Saturday, remember?�

�Don�t they have a phone?� Draco asked petulantly.

And then it clicked: The reason Draco was calling so late was that he�d just gotten in, and he�d been drinking. �Are you drunk?� she asked.

�No,� he denied quickly.

�Right,� Hermione said, not believing him for an instant. She stifled a yawn and eyed the clock wearily. It had been a very long day, and she needed to be up early again in the morning to return once more to the Burrow for the loads of last minute things that needed doing. �Do you mind if I call you back in the morning and we can talk then?�

�Promise?� he asked, his voice sounding strangely vulnerable. Again, she felt wretchedly guilty for not calling him back, but she reminded herself that it was for his own good. It wasn�t right for her to allow him to become emotionally involved with her while she was trying to solve the mystery of how he was alive and well � sans memories � at a strip club less than two miles from Diagon Alley.

�I promise,� she said, stifling a yawn.

�Not too early, though,� Draco added.

�No,� she agreed. �What time, then?�

�After ten,� he said, sounding as though he was muffling a mighty yawn.

�Alright, I�ll talk to you then,� she said wearily. �Goodnight.�

�Goodnight,� he answered.

She quickly hung up the phone and flopped back onto her bed again. �You idiot,� she said aloud. She stared at the dark ceiling over the bed, now too keyed up to go back to sleep. She only hoped that he was drunk enough that he wouldn�t remember her slip-up come morning.

Author's Notes: I suddenly have extreme sympathy for J.K.R. For some time now, I've been trying to contend with a gaping plot hole, and I finally began to stitch it up in this chapter. Which is part of the reason why this chapter is longer than usual.

The next chapter is already well under way, so I hope that your wait for another update will not be lengthy. For more information about updates, please check out my yahoo group, the link to which you can find in my profile.

Author's Notes: I have sudden extreme sympathy for J.K.R. For some time now, I've been contending with a major plot hole, and I finally began to stitch it up in this chapter. Which works for you, since this chapter is much longer than usual.

The next chapter is well under way, so hopefully your wait for the next update will not be long. For more information about updates, check out my yahoo group, the link to which you can find in my profile.

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A Pound of Flesh